


seeking different days

by archeryian



Category: Circe - Madeline Miller
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, and hermes is...well hermes, telemachus gets a teensy tiny bit jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archeryian/pseuds/archeryian
Summary: "So what they say is true." His razor tipped smile and quick eyes had not been missed. Yet there he was.Or, Hermes pays Circe an unexpected visit between their last meeting on Aiaia and her journey to the Underworld.
Relationships: Circe/Telemachus (Circe)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	seeking different days

**Author's Note:**

> write the fic you want to see in the world (aka pls someone write some Circe fic i'm dying out here)
> 
> (title is what Telemachus tells Athena on p. 351)

“So what they say is true.”

Circe stiffened at the voice behind her but forced herself to straighten. Wiping her hands at her sides, she turned to the god behind her. Hermes. His razor tipped smile and quick eyes had not been missed. 

When she had severed her ties to the gods, she had assumed her next reunion with the son of Zeus would be upon her death. She had no reason to expect to see him. Any qualities in her that may have once intrigued him had gone with her divinity.

Yet here he stood. Traveling cloak and gleaming gold sandals, looking at her as if they were great co-conspirators, old lovers, and complete strangers. She hated the sight of him. “And what do they say?”

“That you gained a body to match your voice.”

“I doubt their words are so restrained.”

“No,” he said, grin still in place. “But I am much kinder.”

He watched her, taking in every incremental change. How long had it been since she had become mortal? Five years? Six? There were differences in her and she didn’t doubt he saw every single one.

“I glance away and you break the rules of blood and gods. How delightful.”

She frowned. It might be to him, who beamed at every bold thing. It was not why he was here. There was something he wanted. “Hardly. I am more of a bore than before. What brings the messenger god before me?”

“A bore is not what I would name you, daughter of Helios.” And of course, if he declared it, it was unarguable, law. His Olympian words were always worth more. 

“I am his daughter no longer.”

  
“But Helios was so emphatic about your release from exile. Many were curious at his change of heart.” The look on his face made her realize he must suspect why.

It was then the door behind her swung open behind her, Telemachus coming out. From across the yard he stopped at the sight of Hermes. The god spared him the briefest of glances in acknowledgment.

“Mortality suits you,” Hermes whispered.

Footsteps approach and she felt rather than saw Telemachus kneel in greeting. “It is an honor to be before the messenger of the gods.”

“Rise,” Hermes said. His eyes locked onto Telemachus though when he spoke, he spoke to Circe. “It seems myself and my blood please you. It is a wonder you refused to bear my child.”

Telemachus rose to his feet and did not back away, nor did he move forward in some foolish claim or honor. He stood by her side, exactly where he always did, staring at the problem in front of them. A place of equal footing.

A rush of familiar softness was savored before she pushed it aside. Standing before Hermes was not a time for warmth and weakness.

“Why have you come?”

"No pleasantries? No, _Hermes, what word have you brought of the gods_?"

"I would not wish to bother a son of Zeus."

His smile dimpled. “Very well. I am looking for a spell to find someone who has hid themselves from me.” Of course, he would not ask for her assistance. He implied. No Olympian liked to ask for favors, they gave them so they could hold them over others.

“I will not help you torture some innocent mortal.”

“She is no mortal.” He took a step toward her, casual. Yet everything was an orchestration with him, that she had not forgotten. “Peitho and I have a game. I am allowed to use tools at my disposal to win it.”

_Peitho_. She did not ask who that was. He would leave quicker if she did not. “I don’t want to be a part of this game.”

“Now, what did we used to say to each other?” He asked, mischief bright on his face.

When her only answer was silence, he added, “You want to ask. It will be worth it, it involves your son.”

_He is what the gods can use against me._ That old adage, still sharply true. Telegonus was capable but for Hermes to ask this of her, he must believe he can give her something in return.

She wanted to grab Telemachus by the hand and leave to Aethiopia like was their plan for the coming week, but there was no place they could go where Hermes would not follow. And how could she resist a chance to help her son?

His eyes glinted as if he could read her thoughts. “Say it. You know you want to.”

Resigned, she asked what was typically his line. “What will you give me if I help you?”

“Do you want to talk about this in front of your husband?” He teased, a smirk and glance at Telemachus. The flirtation was to get a rise out of him, and perhaps because Circe scorned him. Eternity was his great game and suggestion his favorite prod.

“Lord Hermes.”

She did not look to Telemachus; he was not some easily made jealous boy.

“Your son will soon be traveling a dangerous route,” Hermes said. “Athena is a bit sour that he refuses to have a wife and child. I doubt she will warn him of the dangers before him. I can say no more, other than I swear to guard his travels should you help me.”

_I do not want you to help him, to even get near him. I do not want to help you._ Yet with her son, it was never a question of what she would for him. She would do anything and everything, and with him too far out of her reach to warn him herself, this would have to be enough. 

“Allow me time to make the draught.”

“Of course.”

She turned to Telemachus, assuming he’d follow, but he was staring back at Hermes, who had tilted his head in amusement. With some hesitation, she walked inside their home. They'd stayed in this quaint place for the better part of a year. It was littered with mementos of travels and scattered herbs.

She pulled together the roots she needed. The draught was simple and came to her quickly. Soon the herbs were ground up, the words spoken, and the spell bottled.

It took little time, and when she finished the draught she returned to the front of their home.

Hermes was appraising Telemachus. Her husband was frowning and it was not his usual thoughtful downturn. Her chest clenched. What had they discussed?

“Prompt as ever,” Hermes said as she extended the vial out to him.

“Pour it over something that Pleitho has held.” He eyed the draught thoughtfully, the slightest discomfort at her witchery still noticeable. “It will lead you straight to her, regardless of what other magic currently blocks you.”

Unwaveringly, Hermes looked at her and she stared back. The gold flecks in his black eyes were as mirthful as a god’s could be, and as shrewd as ever.

“This may be our last meeting for some time.”

“One can hope.”

With a final twitch at the corner of his mouth he vanished, leaving Circe and Telemachus in the beating sun.

* * *

That night, Telemachus brought her to her peak twice, once with his fingers and once with his mouth. Her body was familiar to him now, he knew which spots to press, caress, and lick. The anticipated push of him inside of her had yet to come.

She liked their couplings, the different paces and positions always a shared enamored endurance. Tonight, he seemed solely focused on pleasing her.

When she pulled him to her as her arms lost their boneless shake, his mouth already trailed down her neck in the way adored. The sensations caused her to lose her resolve for moment before she placed her hands on his cheeks and forced his eyes to meet hers.

“What is it?”

He paused and then, carefully, “I wish to cherish you this night.”

They had been married years, she knew him now as well as she knew herself. “Did Hermes say something that bothered you?” She sat up when his expression clouded. “Because that is exactly why he said it.”

“I know that was his aim.”

Circe waited for him to elaborate but he did not. “And yet?”

“Did he really ask you to bare his child?”

She snorted. “Only to measure my infatuation, which I am pleased to say was minimal. I valued him for the word and companionship he brought and that is all.”

Telemachus nodded. “I am allowing him room where he has none,” he admitted. Placing a calloused hand on her hip, he rubbed his thumb back in forth. “Forgive me?”

Instead of answering, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, covering his mouth with hers.

As when he worked, carved, or plowed, Telemachus’s fingers were steady, skilled, and just right on every inch of her.

Curling her fingers in his hair, she brought her mouth to his ear to whisper what she'd been thinking of for months. “I would like to bare your child.”

Now it was Telemachus who pulled back. “You would?”

“Yes.”

His eyes searched hers. “Do you truly want—are you certain?”

There were many things for her to fear. The ways to wound her would grow, the stretch of her spells would need to stretch further, and the terror of childbirth would come again, but when she thought of another child, half her and half him, her eyes and his cheekbones, there was only one answer.

“Yes.”

His full smiles were rare and sweet, making them infinitely more precious when they came. In that moment, his steady gaze morphed into something so strong and joyful it thrummed a twin happiness into her. Telemachus nuzzled his face into her neck, placing soft kisses at its junction with her shoulder.

“Would you like to try now?”

Memories of gods and potions and years past were swept away. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did Hermes say to Telemachus? Probably something catty and deliberate. Half his reason for visiting her is to check out what's up bc he's nosy and a little shit lmao


End file.
